Last Stand
by Robinsons8
Summary: Your group has abandoned you. You are the last one. OC


SAS3 – Last Stand

I grow tired. My hands are still shoving in the deadly bullets which keep my enemies at bay. My trusted rifle, overheating yet still pushing itself to continue protecting its master. I am fatigued, I cannot go on, but my body still forces me to continue. Never in my life has my armor been so heavy and the wounds so painful. The last drop of adrenaline has long gone and my eyes are slowly closing yet the agonizing screams of the undead and the ringing of the cartridges, as they hit each other, keep me from being stolen by the goddess of sleep, yet it feels like a battle between my life and death as I keep refilling my magazine.

My orders were simple, protect the safe house, yet this is may be my end. Why did I enlist in this elite squad anyway? I guess it's because I wasn't missed, nobody would miss me if I died. I used to have a family, but they died when i was a child. I was a soldier ever since. Even My trusted squad, which were like brothers to me, have long abandoned their places, cowards.

Where once strategic planning and roaming was being undertaken by the soldiers, was now ruled by chaos and the undead.

Another magazine done. I toss 3 more grenades in front of me to keep the undead from reaching me before I am done with refilling my clip. Suicide is not an escape, it never was. As long as I keep filling them up with lead, I can protect people, because, let's face it, I'm not here to do anything else.

The grass beneath me is drowning in blood, but I don't slip because my feet wouldn't allow me to move anyway. How long have I been here? I feel like its been days, but I am unable to look at my watch to check the time. There are too many zombies Trying to harvest my flesh to even have a moments glance at my watch. Looking at the body count, I must've killed over 1000 now. My commander had ensured me that I would have enough ammo for 10 days of constant shooting, but looking at my ammo pile that is left, I have almost run through most of it. My trigger finger becomes weaker as the trigger becomes hotter and harder to pull.

As I reload my last magazine, I hear the distant slicing of rotor blades in the wind. Must be an illusion. It's hard to hear anything over the bone shattering sound of my rifle and the moaning of the undead.

There it is again that sound. This time I'm certain, that must be a chopper, but I don't think I'm capable of surviving until then, I am almost out of bullets. I have some grenades just in case, but that noise must be a couple of miles away. I don't think they will ever reach me.

As the sun slowly rises, I can see the silhouette of the chopper that got me here. But at that second, my gun jams. No more ammo. Damn. I thought I could make it. I am down to 5 grenades, my trusty parrot knife and my P-700. I manage to injure some zombies as I toss the first grenade. As soon as the grenade explodes my body comes back to life and pushes in its adrenaline into my veins.

I run, like I have never run before in my life. My heart is racing, even out speeding the fire rate of my rifle. It feels like I am escaping the iron grip of death. Some zombies charge me from the front as I make it to the helicopter platform. The H on it is barely visible. I toss my last 4 remaining grenades into the mob of zombies as I wave my arms frantically into the air, hoping that they can see me among the bodies scattered all around the sector.

I start crying as the chopper comes straight for me. I feel relieved but as the adrenaline fades, I fall to my knee , and my wounds start hurting again.

I barely killed 3 zombies with my P-700 as I'm down to my knife. I gut a zombie who charges straight for my head and manage to shake another zombie off. The chopper is right above my head now and starts shooting into the hoard of zombies aiming straight for me.

The cartridges of the soldiers in the chopper rain down on me almost relieving me of all the pain and doubt. 2 soldiers grab me as I try and jump onto the chopper. I gently lie down as the medic tends to my wounds. They put alcohol over them. I don't even care about the pain anymore, the only thing floating in my mind now is that I am home.

Finally. Home.


End file.
